


Pride

by sentient_bees



Series: The Calm After the Storm [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Character Study, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Peter Parker Has a Family, Reflection, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 13:51:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18500323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sentient_bees/pseuds/sentient_bees
Summary: "You still haven't told me where you're from." Tony had said."I'm from a small town called Gulmira. It's actually a nice place,” Yinsen replied, a little wry in his natural tone."Got a family?"Yes, and I will see them when I leave here. And you Stark?"Tony thought of his parents. "No.""No. So, you're a man who has everything, and nothing."Ten years later and those words still resonated deep within him. He was the man who had everything, and nothing.(AKA Tony reflects on the life he's been blessed with, bc this man deserves to be happy goddammit)





	Pride

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all. :) So this is basically a domestic sort of character study of Tony. Nothing really happens, no plot. Just a lot of fluff and living life in general lol. Enjoy!
> 
> WARNING: The Great Gatsby is mentioned in this story and there are spoilers to that book. Please be wary of that if you haven't read it and don't want spoilers.

Tony has never cared what people thought of him. What with cameras documenting his every move since the day he was born, he took them as something that everyone had to deal with, at least when he was a little kid. He never knew what it was like to go out to lunch without being bombarded by paparazzi and people asking questions a mile a minute. In time, he learned to be good at it, even, under his father’s rigid guidance. 

But a part of him wanted to yell at them, to chase them all away so he could live without all eyes on him, just waiting for the moment he would slip up. 

And in his teen years, he did. 

The parties, the drinking, the sex scandals. For a long time, Tony Stark, heir to a weapons manufacturer, was a mess. The public despised him, and the magazines loved him.

As he entered his late twenties and thirties, he learned to not care what the people thought of him, especially when he shut down the weapons manufacturing division of his company in favor of becoming a superhero. 

And, even after Iron Man, he became somewhat numb to all the pats on the back. 

There was only one person he sought the approval of in his life: his father. And, in time, he learned not to expect anything but disapproval from Howard. 

So, yeah, Tony Stark has learned to not care what people thought about him.

That is, until he met a certain spider.

\---------

“Hey Tony!” Peter exclaimed as he walked into the lab after school. The man didn’t respond. Peter, confused, walked further into the room towards Tony’s workspace. And, sure enough, there he was, fast asleep. 

He looked around. There was a few empty coffee mugs, and DUM-E was cleaning up the remnants of one that had fallen on the ground.

“Hey Fri?” He asked carefully, as not to disturb Tony.

“Yes, Peter? How can I help you?”

“When was the last time Tony slept?”

A pause.

“FRIDAY?”

“Boss has asked me to withhold that information. I can’t--”

“Override.” Peter rolled his eyes. If Tony didn’t want him to know something, then he shouldn’t have given him full access to everything in the tower, including the power to override commands given to FRIDAY if he needed to.

“Boss has not slept for more than three hours a day since you’ve been here last.” 

Peter sighed. He had spent the weekend with May, so the last time he was at the tower was three days ago, over Thursday night. It was now Monday. He walked over to the small lounge area in the lab and pick up a blanket, returning to throw it over Tony’s sleeping form. He then quietly snuck over to his workstation, where he continued designs for new web shooters. 

\----------

When Tony awoke about an hour later, he was greeted with a ham sandwich and a glass of water, his work pushed away. He stretched back, joints popping, and asked to no one in particular “How long was I out?”

“FRIDAY told me about four and a half hours.” Tony jumped, not expecting the voice from behind him.

“Jesus, kid, when did you get here?”

“ ‘Bout an hour ago,” Peter replied, not looking up from his project, “You were asleep so I let you be. I made you a late lunch, because FRIDAY said you haven’t eaten today either,” he indicated the general direction of the ham sandwich with a wave of his hand.

Tony leaned back on his chair, examining it. Had Peter really gone through the trouble of making him a sandwich because he hadn’t eaten that day? Pepper had told him to eat before she left to run around the city that day, but he had forgotten. 

He felt a twinge of regret. No. He felt remorse. He then noticed the blanket on the back of his chair. Had the kid done that too?

The older man ran a hand down his face, and looked at the teenager. “I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that.”

“It’s fine.” He stated simply. Peter continued to fiddle with his web shooters, Tony misidentifying his indifference as disappointment. 

And it’s true that Peter was a little worried. Not disappointed, but concerned. His mentor didn’t take care of himself, and that worried him. 

“Really, I can make it up to you. We can work on one of the suits, if you want.”

Peter placed down the tools he had in his hands to look at Tony. “If you wanna make it up to me you’ll actually sleep when I’m not here.”

The man held his breath as he stared at his protege. Wow, wasn’t expecting that. “How did you know that?”

“FRIDAY told me.”

“That was restricted information.”

“You gave me full access.”

Tony almost slapped himself. Of course, he had full access to override, he had given it to him.

“Now you’re gonna get on me about that just like Pepper and Rhodey, huh?” He tried for a joke, but it fell flat, much like the atmosphere.

Peter gave him a serious look. It was almost out of character, “Tony, you have to take care of yourself. You always emphasize how I have to always be home before curfew, and eat and be in bed by a certain time. Why don’t you follow the same rules?”

Tony gave him a look, like he was. . .embarrassed, even, and looked away, mumbling something under his breath. He didn’t mean for Peter to hear it, but he caught it anyway.

“It’s not easy to sleep with all the nightmares.”

“Tony?” 

“Huh?”

“What nightmares?”

He froze. “Super Hearing. Right.”

“Tony.”

Tony examined the boy. In the time he had known him, he had grown so much, and he couldn’t be prouder. But what would it take to make him proud, to win the approval of his kid?

He never thought, in his life, he’d be striving to make a kid-- his kid-- proud. Yet here he was and he was sure as hell failing at it. 

“Fine. You got me.” He resigned himself to confession, putting his hands up in surrender. 

Peter furrowed his brow. Tony would have laughed at how young he looked if he wasn’t so embarrassed. Time and time again, he told Peter to do well in school-- to sleep, or eat or just take care of himself in general. But he never thought about himself. And he was paying for it, in a few ways.

“What--what nightmares are you having?” Peter asked, somewhat wary of what the answer would be. Tony figured he already knew.

“I don’t think you ought to know.”

“Why not?” Despite his hesitation, Peter’s eyes bore into the man.

“It’s not good.”

“Obviously. It’s a nightmare.”

“I don’t think you get it,” Tony’s voice was sharp, “I can’t-- you can’t know.”

They were silent for a couple of minutes. Peter stared at Tony, but the mechanic only stared at the floor, counting tiles.

“Is it about Titan?” Peter said it, just above a whisper. Tony barely picked it up, but the revelation stung all the same.

He paused, looking at the boy. “Yeah, bud. It is.” His eyes dropped to the ground once more. Peter had spent months in recovery after the snap. The world moved on, but the Avengers and company were smack-dab in the middle of the event, so they were the few to retain the memories of what happened before the world was reset. Tony had seen Peter wake up screaming, had been there when he would throw up because he got dust in his mouth or remembered what it felt like to be torn apart and be put back together again. He remembered what it was like to be in a void of emptiness, scared and alone in the dark. Had kept him close and held him when he wasn’t on earth; on days when he was far off and distant, May and Tony gave him something to tether himself to.

He never considered it going the other way around.

He had also never understood what it was like to want to make someone proud. He understood, when parents said they wanted their kids to be proud of them, in theory-- but had never quite experienced what it felt like up until this point. He’s met fan after fan; all of them idolized him and made him out to be this god of a man. But Peter. . .Peter had seen his flaws, the person that was behind the mask and all of the problems that had come with it. He’s been a victim to Tony’s own mistakes and failings. The hero worship had long since faded away. Yet, all the same, the boy looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky. For the longest time, he never cared for the feeling of having eyes watching him, admiring him. But he found himself, more and more, wanting to make Peter proud. Why was that?

“It’s called love, Tony,” May had chuckled one day over coffee, “He looks up to you.”

“He shouldn’t, May,” He had said, “I’m a mess. I’m the last person he should be taking as an example.”

“True,” May hummed, “But that’s not what makes you a good role model. You learned from your mistakes and improved as a person. And, if you ask me, that’s just what he needs to see right now. Someone who isn’t this perfect picture-- you had to work hard to get where you are today, and you should be proud of it.” 

Tony had doubted her words. That, no, he hadn’t gotten better, and, no, Peter should not be looking up to him. But a part of him wanted to believe it. That he had improved as a person, had become far more than what he was before. And that he was able to be more, now. Was able to be that role model, to raise a child and ensure that they become functioning members of society. That they become better than he ever was.

That’s all he could hope for in the end, really. 

“Was it about me?”

Peter’s sudden intrusion interrupted his train of thought, and he answered quicker than he thought he should have.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was.” Tony stared down at his hands. Night after night, he tried to forget the feeling of ash between his fingers, the remnants of the past and the future that never could be. Tried to leave behind the sound of Peter’s desperate cries as he begged for his life. The days after, in which his chest ached with grief he had never felt before, the kind that made him slow and sluggish and forever distant from the team as they planned to take Thanos down. It was only the possibility of bringing him back that drove him forward. Of bringing Peter back, to be in his arms. Where he should be.

They sat there in silence for a long time, neither of them willing to move.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

Tony raised his head at the question, quirking an eyebrow. “Really? You’d rather watch a movie? I thought you had work to get done?” He nodded his head towards the web shooters that were sitting on Peter’s work desk.

Peter looked between the man and the desk. “I can finish these later. I’m kind of tired. I just got back from school, after all. I had a really rough day.” 

Peter was a horrible liar, and it was obviously a distraction, but Tony played along anyway. “Sure, bud.” He stood up, joints cracking as he stretched. Peter made a face.

“What?” Tony questioned.

“Nothing, it’s just, you’re kinda ol--”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Tony mock-glared at him, starting towards the door. Peter just snickered and followed.

\------

They chose a classic-- ‘Forrest Gump,’ a movie that they both enjoyed. It was among Tony’s favorites and Peter’s too. They had a long list of movies to choose from that they mutually agreed on-- from the original ‘Star Wars,’ to ‘The Princess Bride,’ and eventually to newer movies like ‘Incredibles 2.’ 

As they sat on the couch, late lunches in hand, Tony spent more time watching Peter over the actual movie. The boy chewed happily on one of his three ham sandwiches, contentedly watching the screen. Tony wondered, briefly, how he ended up with this kid in his life.

When he was younger, he could never imagine him taking care of someone else-- the prospect of having kids was always a little out there in his head. His father treated him as if he were an obligation. This, in turn, made Tony think that that’s what parenting was. It was something that you took no joy in, that you only had kids for the sake of carrying on a legacy. 

But now, there, sitting and watching Peter while Forrest’s monologue half-registered in his head, he realized how wrong he was. He felt a swell of pride in his chest that he’s since become accustomed to, a love that he’s never really felt before. Pepper was his love, Rhodey his best friend. But Peter-- Peter was his kid. His boy. The closest thing he had to a son.  
He took a moment to breathe, to acknowledge all of the ways his life had changed. He remembered where he was, all those years ago. Trapped in a cave for three months with a man named Yinsen. 

"You still haven't told me where you're from." Tony had said. 

"I'm from a small town called Gulmira. It's actually a nice place,” Yinsen replied, a little wry in his natural tone. 

"Got a family?"

"Yes, and I will see them when I leave here. And you Stark?"

Tony thought of his parents. "No."

"No. So, you're a man who has everything, and nothing."

Ten years later and those words still resonated deep within him. He was the man who had everything, and nothing.

A couple of weeks ago, he was proofreading Peter’s report on ‘The Great Gatsby,’ and he spent a long time contemplating the underlying themes that clung to the man Jay Gatsby. Who built up his wealth for the sake of gaining Daisy’s attention, pining for her love. He threw extravagant parties to fill up the empty rooms with laughter and something akin to happiness. People from all over coming to sip at the fine wine he bought, use the boats and the balcony he owned. 

But, at the time of his death, it was only his best friend and his father who he hadn’t spoken to in years who even bothered to attend his funeral. 

He almost shuddered, thinking about how that was almost him. Before Pepper, the Avengers, Peter-- the only people who would be standing over his grave was Rhodey and Obadiah Stane. How he could only ever look around his house and think of all of the empty rooms, how he threw party after party to try and fill in the gaps that no one would ever fill.

He was a man who has everything and had nothing. Had. Past tense.

His house, with its empty rooms and big open spaces-- was filled with a familiarity that he could just barely place. The feeling he got when he was seven, and safe in his mother’s arms. He hadn’t felt it in so long he almost forgot. It was what home felt like.

It was the dresser and closet in his room, filled with Pepper’s clothes, her toothbrush neatly tucked away in the bathroom cabinet, the towels put away the way that she likes them, the shampoo that scented her hair in the shower. It was the room, just a door down, filled with Star Wars posters and science textbooks labeled with the name ‘Peter Parker’ and Legos-- the long-forgotten high-heels and converse sneakers thrown haphazardly by the front hall right under the coat rack. The homemade cookies with a little post-it from May on top, half-burnt but all the same filled with time and effort, and love. The IDs that sat somewhere on the kitchen counter, because Happy was a stickler for security even in the Avenger’s compound. The prosthetics prototype for Rhodey in his workshop-- the web-shooters, the half-finished projects from late nights when neither he nor Peter could sleep. The familiarity of it was so welcome and safe. 

He leaned back on the couch, trying to keep his eyes from drooping. The sounds of the movie progressed from background noise to not being processed at all, soon sounding more like a distant dream as he drifted off to sleep. 

\---------

When he awoke, it was to the sound of heels clicking on the floor in the kitchen, whispers that were quiet but sharp all the same. He groaned, only half-registering the weight on his chest before he fully came to realize where he was. He was sprawled out on the couch, Peter with his head resting on his chest, his breathing deep and even. He was asleep. Tony reached over to the coffee table to retrieve his phone, finding that it was six-thirty in the morning. He had slept for fourteen hours.

He considered his options for a moment. For one, he had a very much fast asleep teenager sprawled over him, but for another, he was becoming conscious of all of the crooks in his neck and back. He opted for the former-- Peter typically woke up around this time to get ready for school, and it was only Tuesday, so he would be rising in a few minutes at FRIDAY’s call anyway.

“Hey, bud. Rise and shine,” he shook Peter gently, trying to get him to open his eyes. The boy stirred, taking a deep breath in and stretching before looking at Tony through dazed and squinted eyes. He only hummed, his tone a question.

“It’s six-thirty. Time to get up for school.” Peter moaned in reply, dropping his head against Tony’s chest. Tony breathed out a laugh, propping himself up on his elbows as Peter rose as well. He ruffled the kids already messed-up hair. “Sleep well?” Peter hummed affirmatively, rubbing at his eyes. Tony could only think of how young he looked when he looked like that. Sure, he was seventeen, and growing up fast-- but he was still such a kid. His kid.

It was only then that he had noticed that Peter was in his pajamas. He must have gotten changed at some point. “What time did you go to bed?” Tony inquired as Peter stretched out his limbs and yawned. 

“Dunno. I watched like two movies. Passed out sometime after dinner.” 

Tony contemplated this. Why hadn’t he just slept in his own bed? He had crashed hard on the sofa after a particularly long weekend of little to no sleep, but Peter didn’t. He probably got up, ate dinner, got in his pajamas and came right back to the couch to sleep next to Tony. But why? 

In a burst of realization, he felt almost embarrassed. He had told Peter about the nightmares. About how he had watched the boy turn into dust more times than he could count, because his brain loved to replay it over and over as if it were a favorite memory. Peter staying there, with him, grounding him even in his unconscious state, was something Tony would never thought the boy would do. But he did. And, as he sat and blinked the sleep out of his eyes, he realized how soundly he had slept. Huh.

While Tony’s thoughts were on the absence of nightmares, Peter dragged himself from the sofa.  
The apartment was spacey, and had an open floor plan that allowed Peter to pass right through the kitchen to his bedroom door in the hallway. He disappeared into his room, no doubt preparing for the day.

“Hey, FRIDAY,” Tony said with a yawn.

“Good morning, boss. It is currently six thirty five AM and it is fifty degrees out. Today there is a low of forty-two and a high of sixty-three, and there is a 85% chance of rain after twelve PM.”

He looked out at the floor-to-ceiling windows that allowed him to see the entire front of the compound. The sky was cloudy but bright, making him squint through the haze. 

“Good morning, hunny,” Pepper walked over to him and pecked his cheek over the back of the couch. He hummed, his thoughts lost in the clouds. “Are you going to drive Peter to school today? Tony?” He blinked, jumping out of his stupor. 

“What? Oh, yeah.”

“May’s away on that business trip, so we have him all week. Did you remember?” Her voice was gentle and understanding, rather than scolding. Peter must have told her about his sleep habits. She knew they were bad, but was too busy to inquire on it too much.

“Yeah. Yes, yeah. I remembered.” May had called him yesterday to remind him. 

“Good.” She placed another kiss on the side of his face. “You should get ready then. Breakfast is on the counter.”

He stood up, stretching, and stepped up the single stair that connected the living room to the kitchen. There he stood, in a daze as Pepper rushed around. 

“I’ve got to catch a flight at eight. I’ll be back tonight around nine, alright?”

“Okay. Just let me know if you’re staying overnight, though I’d prefer it if you were here.” Tony said as he poured himself a cup of coffee, leaning against the counter.  
“I’d prefer it too,” Pepper smiled and kissed his lips, Tony’s mouth forming into a smile as well as she tried to trap her, but let go when she reached over for her bag on the island.

“I love you. See you later tonight!” 

“Love you too,” He called, watching her rush into the elevator.

He picked out a bagel from a selection Pepper had set out and ate while he planned his day on a holoscreen in front of him. His therapist had suggested to him that he should try planning his day and crossing things off to keep his mind occupied and busy, rather than him just drifting off into space as he work on a project. He set alarms for meetings and various other tasks before he went to his bedroom to shower and get ready for the day.

\--------

Once Tony emerged from his room, it was seven o’clock. He was dressed in formal suit-and-tie-- he had a board meeting at Stark Headquarters after he dropped Peter off at school, according to his schedule. He found said boy sitting at the kitchen island, eating what was probably his third or fourth bagel smeared with whitefish from their favorite deli.

Tony began to pack everything up and set it away before he grabbed his keys from the bowl next to the door to their apartment.

“Ready to head out, bud?” He called, looking back at Peter who was zipping up his bag with one hand and holding a bagel in the other.

“Yep!” Peter caught up to him with a spring in his step, and they were off. 

The garage was a short distance away from where they were-- the common room was deep in the heart of the compound, and the individual apartments for each of the Avengers and their families surrounded it on all sides. Sitting below the residential area was the garage. 

As they made their way there, they saw very few people pass by. Steve and Natasha, were, of course, on their morning run through the halls, because it wasn’t very nice outside. They passed Tony and Peter in the hallway with breathless waves. As they entered the garage, they found Sam and Bucky heading out to the city in another one of the cars. They said their goodbyes before exiting the compound in one of Tony’s less conspicuous looking Audis. 

They spent the whole ride chatting away-- well, Peter was, anyway. Tony was perfectly content with listening to him, ACDC quietly playing in the background. Traffic was light and they managed to get to the school in record time-- just after seven forty.

“Thanks, Tony! Love you!” Peter bounced out of the car to the pavement in front of the school.

“Love you too, bud. Pick you up at two-thirty?”

“Yep! See ya.”

“Bye.”

Peter closed the door, and Tony watched him meet Ned and MJ at the front of the school, where they entered together. 

Tony drove away, towards the tower, and he contemplated the words ‘I love you’ that felt so easy on his tongue.

\---------

Two meetings, an internship lunch, and two hours of tinkering later and Tony found himself sitting outside the doors of his pseudo-son’s school once again. Despite the nature of the meetings, he had for once kept pace with his schedule and actually felt invigorated. The weather had not lied; it was raining steadily as students poured out the doors with umbrellas and book bags over their heads. He waited for Peter for about five minutes before he decided to text him. He was always one of the first people out, so it was unusual for him to be late. Another five, and he had to hold back his annoyance as the sidewalk cleared. After fifteen minutes and no sign of Peter, he spotted one of the kids in Peter’s class. Flash, was it? The boy looked nervous, even worried. He rolled down his window. 

“Hey, kid. Flash, was it?”

The boy’s eyes widened as he realized who was speaking to him. “Y-yes, sir.” He stuttered out, then cast his eyes on the ground. Tony raised his eyebrows. Flash was almost always confident and even somewhat cocky-- no doubt partially a result of some form of insecurity, Tony was sure from what he knew about him. 

“Have you seen Peter? He’s usually not this late.” 

Flash looked around, as if there were someone listening in to their conversation. “Uh, he’s in the gym I think, last time I saw him. Y-you should probably go get him.” And with that, he walked away briskly. That confused Tony, especially at the fact that he hadn’t used an underlying tone of jeasolsy or malice. That, for some reason, raised a red flag in Tony’s head. He took the key of the car and made his way to the front of the school, jogging to evade the downpour as much as he could. 

As he entered the school, it was quiet. The band could be heard practicing as the sound of trumpets and drums echoed faintly through the halls, the chatting of the drama and art clubs the only real animate thing. Tony maneuvered through the hallways with ease; after visiting the inside of the school a handful of times, he had the maze down in his head.

Reaching the gym doors, the first thing he heard was yelling. He jogged to enter, but stopped with his palm pressed against it when he heard someone speak.

“You’ve got no right to say that!” That was Peter. He sounded angry. He almost never got heated, at least in his outward appearance. “How the hell would you know?”

“Because, dumbass, your ‘daddy,’ or whatever the fuck he is to you, is a bad person. He lets people die. Face the facts!” Another voice practically spit out. 

“He lets people die?” Peter replied incredulously, “He’s saved more lives than you could count! And, sure, he’s lost some, but he can’t save everyone! But he sure as hell tries! It’s what makes him human. He built himself up from a legacy that he had to make his own!” Tony shoved down the feeling of pride bubbling in his chest in favor of listening intently.

“Yeah, and you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Penis Parker?” Another boy sneered, “You’re only defending him because he’s your fucking sugar daddy or some shit.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Three of the boys, looking horrified, turned to the voice in question. And, having just entered the gym in a rage, Tony was standing with his arms folded, absolutely fuming.

“If I hear you say anything like that again,” he hissed, immediately confronting the boy in question, “I will be taking action, and you can sure as hell bet life’ll be a whole lot harder when you can’t get into college.” The threat was forceful but empty. Maybe, he’d report the kid to the principal and tell his parents and make sure he got grounded for a few weeks and left Peter alone, but taking it beyond high school was unnecessary in his mind. Tony did a lot of stupid shit as a teenager, and so do the kids of today. Didn’t mean they still didn’t have room to grow. But, for now, he needed to be knocked down a peg. 

The boy went pale, shrinking under Tony’s intense glare. “Y-yes sir.” He gestured to his friends before they scampered out of the gym, the door swinging closed behind them. He then looked to Peter. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

Peter took a second to shake out of his apparent stupor before responding. “It was nothing. Really.”

“Hm. Well, it sounded like you were in a pretty heated argument. And I was the subject, mind, so I think I have the right to know.”

Peter cast his eyes towards the ground and mumbled something. Tony lifted a hand to his ear. “What was that?”

“I said they called you selfish,” He said, louder. 

Tony’s demeanor softened. “I get a lot of stuff said about me, bud. Trust me, I’ve stopped caring a long time ago. They will talk, but you have to let them.”

“But it’s no fair,” Peter mumbled, much like a younger child would, “They’ve got not right to say that after everything you did. . .and everything you went through. They’re just these new kids that say shit to get to people. They even got to Flash.” He finished the sentence with slight hesitation, wary of his mentor’s reaction. Tony thought of the way Flash was acting earlier. 

“They say stuff whenever I pass them,” Peter continued, “Just so they can get to me. They say stuff about my parents, Ben, May. . .and you. It’s been going on for a couple of months though, and I guess I just lost it.” He dropped his head in shame. 

Tony’s blood boiled. People said things about all of the loved ones Peter has lost-- his parents, and Ben-- and his current guardians, all for the sake of their personal entertainment. They were the same kids who threw rocks at birds and laughed at people in pain.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Tony scrutinized Peter with his stare, though his anger wasn’t aimed at him.

He shrugged “It’s not worth your time.”

“Peter,” Tony deadpanned, “You’re my kid. I’ll always have time.”

Peter shrugged again, his eyes on the ground.

The mechanic stood there, hands in his pockets. “Come on,” he nodded towards the doors. “Let’s get out of here. High schools give me the creeps and I’m pretty sure I hear the track team coming. I don’t need to smell like sweaty teenager.”

The boy grinned, following him out. 

As they walked out the doors of the school, Tony’s thoughts drifted to what Peter had said. He defended him. Sure, Tony couldn't care less what people had to say about him, but for some reason the notion of Peter finding pride in knowing him made his heart swell. 

With one hand on the wheel, rose-tinted glasses in the pocket of his thousand dollar suit, Tony pulled into the parking lot of their favorite burger joint, Peter chatting excitedly as they ran into the restaurant to avoid the downpour and ordered their food. 

“Hey Pete?”

“Yeah?” Peter replied, mouth full of fries.

“I’m proud of you, kid.”

Peter swallowed and flashed him a toothy, childish grin. Tony couldn’t help but chuckle at what he himself had become. He was getting soft in his old age. But maybe that was okay.

Yeah, they were okay.


End file.
